


Kill Me with Love

by Bovinity



Series: In Another Life [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, Alternative Universe - Killing Stalking, M/M, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bovinity/pseuds/Bovinity
Summary: He was handsome, rich and the perfect man in society's eyes. Everyone wanted to be him. Everyone wanted him. Including Neville.He just didn't realise the price.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Series: In Another Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012332
Kudos: 8





	Kill Me with Love

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Oh lordy lord I am so out of touch with the Harry Potter fandom, forgive any mistakes.  
> 2\. If you have not read Killing Stalking, then you are in for a treat!

_Chop chop chop chop_

The drone of the cutting knife was like a lullaby: familiar and boringly dull. Once upon a time the concept of a lullaby had appeal, when he was young and had the comfort of a family. He remembers soft hands in his hair and a sweet voice lulling him to sleep as he dreamed of the perfect life he would one day have.

_Chop chop chop chop_

But like all things in life, it began to lose its appeal. When that sweet voice died away he was left with no one to sing to him anymore. It should have been sad to realise life changed so quickly, but at the time Neville has lost a lot more than just his family.

_Chop chop chop – ouch!_

The lullaby stopped. Neville grimaced at the red blooming on his finger. He was not happy with himself, a silly mistake for someone like him. Or was it really silly then? It was not like he had any worth as a person. Poor Neville Longbottom raised by some sad old people while the rest of his friends had normal lives. Or were they normal?

The red spread past his finger and seeped into the chopped carrots. He hopped over to the sink to lessen the red, but it only reminded him again of how different things were. The small sting in his finger was nothing compared to the reawakened pain in his legs, specially his ankles. The bandages were more for show than security, and he could feel them clinging to his feet as wounds reopened.

It hurt, but it made him special. Neville Longbottom with _two_ broken feet! Who else could say they had something so _exciting_ about them?

Feeling lighter and much happier, Neville quickly cleaned up his finger and removed the bloodied carrots before resuming his chopping. If he was quick enough dinner would be ready much quicker than he originally planned. Maybe if the food was especially delicious then he could sleep in the main bedroom tonight!

A melody came to mind, and he hummed it under his breath as the carrots dropped into the pot followed by the onions and potatoes. A lovely meal! This will surely give him worth!

The food simmered and Neville excitedly hopped around the kitchen to gather crockery and cutlery to set the dining table in the room over. The house was large, much larger than the one he grew up in, and it was always impressive how the dining room could seat a large family.

It sometimes made Neville wonder when more guests would come over. It got lonely with just two people around.

It was not the sound of a door nor the merry tune of a greeting which alerted Neville of a presence, instead it was the firm grip on his hip followed by a fierce kiss to the back of his neck. He made a sound of surprise, yet could not turn around quickly enough before the person introduced themselves:

“I hope dinner is ready.” The voice was emotionless as always, or not always. Sometimes it was filled with anger.

“I just finished it.” Neville nodded the kitchen where the pot continued to simmer. He finally turned to face his roommate, or perhaps lover. It was not a word they often said out loud, unless Neville wanted to be starved for a day or two.

Before him stood Draco Malfoy: the eye candy of their society, and currently Neville’s… obsession. He was no ashamed of it, because if Neville never did obsess over the beautiful man then he would have never been blessed to be in this position.

“I will get the dinner-“ Draco stopped Neville from moving into the kitchen with a grip on his arm. At first he thought the man would give him praise for his hard work, instead he shattered what little happiness Neville managed to gather for the evening.

“Bring the food and go upstairs. My fiancée is coming over.”

… … …

He could hear them talk. Her voice was loud and shrill and reminded him of a dying animal. It was nothing compared to beautiful silk of Draco’s cold authority as he spoke of things not too interesting nor too invasive.

She laughed and complimented the food. He kept quiet and ordered her to eat more and speak less.

She obeyed and spoke again when her dinner was done. She asked to stay the night, he gave her permission.

Neville did not need to see her to know she was smiling. A privilege to spend the night with Draco Malfoy. It was something Neville continued to dream of, and maybe if he continued to be obedient it will happen.

Chairs scraped across the expensive polished floor. She was ordered to wait in the lounge. She obeyed.

Neville had no reason to feel guilty when he saw Draco make his way upstairs and spot the wounded man staring at him. Neville had every right to be near the stairs, he was not ordered to stay in his room. Draco did not look displeased nor pleased, instead he only approached the man sitting on the floor within earshot of the dining room.

“I am going to bed my fiancée tonight.” The words almost made Neville whine. He knew it was going to happen, as it usually does when she comes over, and it continued to hurt him. He cooked, cleaned, obeyed every command, and yet he still has not spent one night in the same room as Draco. It was unfair.

Draco kneeled down and stared directly into Neville’s eyes. The man’s usually cold face twisted slightly into a smile, “And I want you to watch.”

“Wait- What? I mean, sorry, what?” the words rung in his ears. He thought he misheard. Watch?

Draco nodded and reached out a hand until it caressed Neville’s cheek. “Watch tonight, and you will be rewarded.”

… … …

It was easier when Draco shoved him in the spacious wardrobe. Clearly Neville’s presence continued to stay a secret from the outside world. There was no one who would miss him, and he did not want anyone to take him away from Draco even if there was someone who cared about him at all.

He was instructed to watch through the ajar door. The room was dark, Draco never bothered with the lights, save for the moonlight peeking through the windows. He could hear voices, the door opening, and inside stepped two silhouettes.

He knew he was not allowed to hate her because she was in Draco’s life before he was, but it still was not fair. All she did was spend his money and demand sex when she came over. Neville never asked for such things. The greediest thing he ever wanted was to touch Draco’s bedsheets.

The shapes moved, but they were close together. They kissed, and clothes slowly met the floor. His eyes failed to leave Draco as the moonlight revealed the dips in his perfect figure. His skin was soft and pale and Neville wondered what it would look like with colour on it. He had no idea what colour, but he was sure any would do. Something vibrant!

The voices were soft and he refused to hear him, instead his entire focus stayed on Draco as he moved effortlessly across the room. The shapes settled on the bed and the pure power and authority Draco radiated enthralled Neville, yet it was not enough to retain his focus. He knew he was promised a reward, but it was dark and Draco would not know he did not watch.

So he sat back, away from the slightly ajar door, and pressed himself against the wardrobe wall. There he brought his knees to his chest and caressed his bloody and bruised ankles as he closed his eyes and blocked out the sounds by pressing against the wound each time a sound infiltrated the wardrobe.

His focused settled on his wounds. His mind filled with the memory of Draco wielding a hammer followed by blind pain and the promise that Neville will never see the outside world again. The pain was not something adored, but those words! It made his heart flutter and his lips quiver as he tried to hide a smile.

Draco was not a romantic man, but clearly he saw something in Neville if he wanted to keep him here so badly.

Neville forgot to press against the aggravated wounds, because he could clearly hear her talk loudly. He could not hear Draco however, and was left in the dark about what was happening until the wardrobe doors slammed open. Draco stood in the opening, his expression blackened by the shadows of the room but Neville knew he was not happy.

Neville was not watching.

No words were exchanged between them as Draco jerked Neville onto his feet which only caused the wounded man to sprawl across the floor. His presence alerted her who screamed in fright.

“Shut up bitch.” The words were cold and the first Neville allowed himself to hear since he was stored in the wardrobe. He lifted himself up to see Draco through teary eyes, yet he could still not see if the man was as angry as he believed.

“Who is that man Draco!?”

“I said shut up.” Draco kneeled down and focused on Neville for the second time that day, “I asked you one simple thing. Either you make up for it, or you will be punished.”

The opportunity for redemption elated Neville. He eagerly pushed himself up and bowed his head in forgiveness. “Please, please tell me what to do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” A hand settled on his head and softly threaded through a few strands.

“Draco! I demand an explanation!” she continued to shrill and scream and she has pressed herself up against the wall with blankets covering every inch of her revolting naked body. Draco continued to ignore her. He stood up and moved to the bedside stand where he reached into a drawer to reveal the glint of a very sharp knife.

The sight made old wounds ache on Neville’s body, and he wondered what part of him would be cut to make up for his wrongdoings. Draco brought the knife over and presented it to the Neville. He moved close until his lips touched the skin on Neville’s ear and whispered in his cold voice, “Kill her for me.”

The knife was pressed into his hand.

Neville was not sure if he heard right, and a part of him thought maybe his desires were twisting the words he was hearing. He looked down and saw the familiar knife. He never held it. It was heavy. He looked into Draco’s eyes and saw nothing but authority, and maybe if he did this then there would be love.

Love.

Neville pushed himself up. He ignored his wounds. The pain was nothing, he felt worse. He was sure he did. She was still in the bed. Did Neville want to ruin the sheets? It was replaceable. He knew it was. Neville never bled on them before, but she would be the first. It made him angry.

How dare she.

Aching feet carried him to the bed. He clambered on top of it until he was in reach of her. She screamed and tried to run away, but Draco activated this and was there to stop her. He held her by the wrists and pulled her back into his chest, presenting her as the perfect sacrifice.

“Kill her Neville, for me?”

Neville did not have to be asked twice. The knife felt clumsy in his hands, but he knew once the blood spilled then Draco would love him. _He knew it_.

He heard her scream before he smelled it. There were not words, just pure pain and desperation as black liquid poured from her chest. He did not strike her heart, he was not skilled enough for that. She did not quiet down. She was annoying.

He struck again. And again. Again. Again again _again again again again_

The liquid was everywhere. His hands. The bed. The knife. The whole room.

It smelled like the day Draco found him hiding in the attic. He snuck in that day, his obsession finally drove him to sneak into the house of the man he desired. It costed him his feet, but it gave him a chance to live here. With Draco.

“Neville.” His wrists were captured. He released the knife on instinct and was brought from his memories when he saw the scene in front of him. The only thing that remained were her face. He wished he cut it first. He did not want to see her.

The pressure on his wrists eased and he took the opportunity to search for Draco. He was right there, in the middle of the carnage and Neville was right: colour looked lovely on his skin. The red was dark and moved as he moved. He was moving.

Draco was in front of him now, close enough to see the moon reflected in his eyes. And there Neville searched for the one thing he wished so dearly for, but he could not find it. There was no love. What did he do wrong?

“Thank you.” The words were soft and enduring. He meant it. Draco meant those words.

“Will you forgive me?” It was all Neville could ask. The guilt of disobeying Draco still lingered and he did not want the man’s anger focused on him. Draco answered by pulling him close until they touched. A hug. Draco was hugging him. Neville allowed himself to lift his arms and return the gesture.

It was perfect.

Maybe if Neville continued to be good, Draco will love him.


End file.
